


The Major and his Man

by Hambel



Category: The Professionals
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-02-17
Updated: 2012-02-17
Packaged: 2017-10-31 08:30:49
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,402
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/342029
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Hambel/pseuds/Hambel
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Cowley sees Bodie in a kilt and it sparks off erotic thoughts.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Major and his Man

**Author's Note:**

> Originally written for the [Pros Anon Pornfest](http://m31andy.livejournal.com/423947.html). Prompt was: _Cowley masturbating to the image/picture/fantasy of Bodie in a kilt._

Cowley had long ago come to terms with the fact that his beloved Highlands would remain a place to visit on holiday and would never be his permanent home again. Occasionally however, something would invoke a memory of that halcyon place: a whiff of heather, perhaps; an unexpected snowfall; a man wearing a kilt.

To be fair, it wasn't just any man. It was Bodie. His man, Bodie. One half of his top team and the half that had given him more sleepless nights and erotic dreams since he'd started working at CI5 than any man had a right to.

And, of course, it wasn't just any kilt. It was the Campbell tartan. The same Campbell tartan that wee Jamie Campbell used to wear on high days and holidays. And it was on one of those high days that an adolescent George had found out wee Jamie wasn't so wee after all.

It didn't matter to George why Bodie was wearing a kilt. Just the sight of the blues and greens interwoven with black thread and he was hard. Add it to strong calves encased in thick white woollen socks and he was desperately wishing he was anywhere else but his office.

He looked around and listened. The door to Betty's outer office was closed and she'd gone home an hour previously. The clock showed it to be seven in the evening and most of his operatives had gone home by then.

Did he dare?

His lips were suddenly dry and he poured himself a slug of whisky to moisten them. Bodie had disappeared to do God-knew-what with that disreputable partner of his and some floozy somewhere would be getting the benefit of those strong muscular thighs beneath that sinful Campbell tartan. He groaned as he imagined running a hand up one of those muscular thighs and finding out if Bodie really was going Commando as the more ribald suggestions in the Staff Room had implied. 

Pouring himself another drink, he limped across the room to turn the key in the door. Silently toasting his number one team on a job well done, he set down the empty glass and dropped gracefully into a more comfortable chair.

Cowley didn't indulge himself very often, but now he had a new fantasy to work with: Bodie in a kilt. More specifically, Bodie in a kilt facing a wall waiting for Cowley to search him.

_Bodie would place his hands on the wall at shoulder height and spread his legs the way Cowley would instruct him to. Not too wide - he didn't want the lad to be uncomfortable – but wide enough to keep him off balance for a while. Cowley would start with running his hands over Bodie's shirt on the pretext of searching him, grazing a nipple just to hear the sharp intake of breath that would ensue. The muscles would be so tense that they would feel rock hard beneath his fingertips._

Cowley unbuttoned his fly and pulled out his erection roughly. He stroked himself a couple of times, pulling the foreskin down and running his fingertips over the sensitive head, smearing the pre-ejaculate that was already gathered there. He put his fingers in his mouth one by one to taste himself and then licked his palm when he'd done, ready to grasp his cock again.

Where was he? _Ah, yes. Bodie against the wall. Once he'd finished with Bodie's top half, Cowley would drop to his knees and start at the ankles._ (In his fantasies he was always more supple than in real life, but that was what fantasies were for, wasn't it?) _Bodie's woollen socks would cover more hard muscle and sinew and would be folded over at the knee. Cowley's hands would travel further up, underneath the kilt, skimming over surprisingly hairy thighs and buttocks._

He shifted in his chair, spreading his legs so he could fondle his testicles with his other hand. Tipping his head against the back of the chair, he was at the perfect angle to thrust into his hand, lazily at first and gathering momentum as the fantasy heated up.

_He would bring his hands round to the front, still beneath Bodie's kilt, to stroke his taut abdomen. Then they would venture lower, one hand would cup his balls and the other would stroke his firm erection roughly and Bodie would stand there like the good soldier he was, without complaint or whimper. Only the quickening of the breaths he took would show that he was affected in any way._

Cowley groaned, imagining it was Bodie's cock he was pulling on vigorously, Bodie's balls he was rolling between his fingers. 

_Bodie would begin to jerk his hips into Cowley's hand. Getting to his feet Cowley would tut, 'Enough of that, my lad,' and would take both hands away. He would tuck the hem of the kilt into the waistband before landing a stinging slap on Bodie's bare buttock. Bodie's head would arch back, revealing a long neck and Cowley would slap the other cheek, making his own hand sting in the process. Bodie would catch his bottom lip in his teeth, but otherwise wouldn't utter a sound as his head fell forward again._

Cowley felt his balls tighten and knew he was close. He squeezed at the base of his cock to stop himself from coming too soon. 

_Cowley would run a hand over one reddened cheek, soothing and squeezing, while he would place the other hand on Bodie's back, just below the neck, and push him down until he was bent over at the waist, still with hands planted firmly against the wall. Still kneading Bodie's flesh Cowley would run a finger down the crack between his buttocks. It would be slippery and his hole would already be well-lubricated._

_"Good lad," Cowley would whisper, pleased that his man was always prepared, and he would push two fingers inside, scissoring quickly without any finesse._

_He would draw out his fingers when he was done and quickly undo his own fly far enough to pull out his hard, leaking cock. Rubbing the lubricant from Bodie's arse onto his own cock would have to be enough as he had to have Bodie right there and then. He knew Bodie could take it as hard and rough as he could give it and still ask for more._

_Planting his feet shoulder-width apart for stability, he would line up his cock head at Bodie's hole and pull the cheeks apart before pushing in. Slowly, but surely, he would press himself into Bodie's hot, tight channel until he was fully sheathed._

Cowley's fingers were flying over his cock, his eyes squeezed tightly shut as he gave himself up to the fantasy. His leg muscles started cramping, but he couldn't stop now.

_He would lean over Bodie's broad back and ask, "Are you alright, lad?" Bodie would utter a noise that could be anything, but the accompanying nod would give permission for Cowley to carry on._

_Cowley would stand up and pull out until only his cockhead was inside and then he would grasp hold of Bodie's hips and slam back inside. He would grunt his approval as Bodie stood his ground, taking all that Cowley could give him._

_Cowley would continue, altering his angle and being rewarded with a whimper from the big man beneath him. As he felt himself getting close he would reach over and grasp Bodie's cock, hard as steel. Still thrusting from behind he would tug on the silky shaft and murmur, 'Come for me, Bodie, my man.'_

_With a cry, Bodie would thrust into Cowley's hand and spill himself over the capable fingers fisting him. With Bodie's come running over his hand and muscles clenching around his cock, Cowley's orgasm would take over as he spurted inside his number one agent, his top man. **His** man._

Cowley's balls were as tight as his grip on the arm of the chair, and he felt the familiar pull of his orgasm wash over him, and then he was coming, ejaculating over the fingers that in his fantasy had brought Bodie to completion.

He sat in his chair, fingers and groin sticky, out of breath and sated for the time being.

He wondered if there were any cases in Scotland that needed clearing up. He wouldn't mind seeing the Campbell tartan again. Either on or off his man Bodie.


End file.
